


Never have I ever...

by Azile_Teacup



Series: Meet Cute [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-04
Updated: 2012-11-04
Packaged: 2017-11-17 23:35:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/554444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azile_Teacup/pseuds/Azile_Teacup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The time Arthur got drunk (just a snippet in my 'Meet Cute' universe)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never have I ever...

**Author's Note:**

> A short snippet here, I'm working on something about Leon and Agravain, this will hopefully tide you over

“I don't think... I've never really drunk much, Merlin.”

“What? Never?”

“Well, I was only sixteen when I left. Me and Leon snuck a few from Dad or his parents, but not much.”

“And then?”

“It's easy to depend on, when it's so cold and miserable out. I didn't want to go that way.”

Merlin strokes Arthur's cheek, so fond and proud of him. 

“You are incredible. Did you know that? Do you want to not, then?”

“No! Let's... I'll try it, yeah? You complete and utter sop. I am incredible, though, so I can't really blame you.”

Merlin grins and turns to the bar to order two pints as Gwaine crows in victory beside him and Gwen giggles on the other side of Gwaine. They were having a moping 'my partner's working valentines day' evening out, Arthur, Gwen and Gwaine, but then Merlin had got off work at the last minute and joined them so Gwaine and Gwen had said they had to get drunk to counter the depressing-ness of Merlin being here but Lance and Percy still working. Which is when Arthur had got quiet and fidgety and admitted he's never been drunk.

Two hours and four pints later, that statement is no longer true. Merlin chuckles as Arthur sways in his arms, tripping and stumbling but insisting he's brilliant at slow dancing and they musn't stop. Merlin pulls his closer and lets him trip around the floor to the sound of the rock band's up-beat, fast paced, bloody awful music. Gwaine and Gwen are dancing in a more appropriate tempo beside them and Merlin laughs as Arthur props his chin on Merlin's shoulder and mumbles, slowing even more. 

“Merlin! Drink?”

“I think we're pretty much done for tonight, Gwaine. Arthur's...”

Merlin laughs again and pats Arthur's back as he nips Merlin's ear. 

“No teeth, Arthur. Please.”

“Mm. Teeth. I like yours. Gotta piss, Merlin.”

“Okay. Come on.”

Merlin leads Arthur through the tables and to the loos marked 'gal's' and 'male toilet'. Arthur tries to stagger into 'gal's' and Merlin has to steer him clear, still laughing. They make it back to Merlin's flat, just about. Arthur's not much help, he nips at Merlin's ears, stumbles off the pavement (Merlin saves him from the cars) and generally acts like a giggly, drunk arse. While Merlin is trying to get his keys out of his pockets Arthur keeps tickling him and nipping and kissing and then Merlin's neighbours get home.

They're a professional couple, always very proper, and they're standing there in their posh evening wear, waiting for Arthur to move and let them pass. Arthur notices them and lets go of Merlin, finally allowing him get to his keys. Merlin turns to the door which is a bad idea as that leaves Arthur to talk to the poor neighbours.

“Good evening, Sir, Madam. Lovely night, isn't it? Been anywhere nice?”

“Yes, we have. Would you excuse us?”

“Of course! Your dress looks lovely, by the way. Not something I'd pick out myself but it compliments your colouring beautifully. And that jacket is gorgeous, really makes your shoulders stand out. And they are lovely shoulders.”

Merlin gets the door open and turns to save the couple, hiding his amusement at Arthur's drunken friendliness and patter. The woman is blushing and the man looks pleased, to Merlin's surprise. He also looks shy, which Merlin is used to. He knows the woman is called something beginning with 'L' but he has no idea about the guy.

“You think so? My sister sent it to me and demanded I wear it.”

“She has good taste, but I think it's you that makes it something special, sir.”

“Call me Geraint, please.”

“Of course. Geraint. Nice name. And you, ma'am? What shall I call you?”

Merlin watches the blush spread over the woman's neck, but she seems less enamoured than her partner.

“You may call me Miss Lamia.”

“Lamia. That sounds Spanish.”

“It's not. Come on, Gerry. We both have work tomorrow.”

“Nice to meet you- oh, but we don't know your name.”

Geraint gives Arthur an expectant look but Arthur's got muddled somewhere.

“I'm Merlin's.”

“Arthur, he wants your name not mine.”

“Oh! I'm Arthur. Just Arthur. Not anything as exciting as Lamia.”

Arthur rolls the name drawing it out with a Spanish lilt that makes Geraint snicker and his girlfriend glare.

“Well, good night Arthur.”

“Nighty night Geraint.”

Arthur flops his hand at them in a kind of wave and then sort of falls across the hall into Merlin, who steadies him and drags him into the flat. Arthur stumbles to the bedroom under his own steam and lies flat on his back, yawning.

“Come on, you cannot sleep in your clothes you drunkard!”

“They're nice ones, Mer.”

“Yes they are. Up! I have pyjamas for you, those really extra soft ones you like.”

“Made of bamboo. They were lovely people, weren't they Mer?”

“They were. Now, get up.”

Arthur glares but rolls himself off the bed, falling onto the floor and giggling.

“That isn't up, that's down.”

Merlin heaves Arthur up, stuff him into pyjamas and then lets him lie on the bed and giggle at the ceiling. 

“You're such a giggly drunk. I'm going to do my teeth and find you some water and pain killers, stay here.”

“Kay! I'll stay, stay, stay!”

Arthur starts singing something about a combine harvester, the strains of which accompany Merlin as he prepares for bed and a hungover Arthur in the morning. By the time he gets back to the bedroom, though, Arthur is asleep and snoring, drooling onto Merlin's pillow. Merlin laughs and puts his cache of hangover supplies on the table before curling up around Arthur, ridiculously happy to be in the company of the drooling idiot, even when the drooling idiot drools into Merlin's hair.


End file.
